


Wired Up

by Jackpop



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Sex, Blood and Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Don't smoke, Drug Use, Drugs, Gang member Jeonghan, Gangs, Gun Violence, M/M, One Night Stands, Organized Crime, Possible Character Death, Smoking, Superintendent Seungcheol, Tad bit of angst, Violence to come, badly written sex scenes lmao, hook-ups, mafia, no really there's a lot of smoking, not romanticising gang violence, ok it's all angst, possibly some gore, too much smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14757030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackpop/pseuds/Jackpop
Summary: Jeonghan, a man born into one of Korea’s most infamous gangs, accidentally starts dating a chief of the National Police. Great...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a six-day streak of insomnia induced all-nighters and this was the subsequent byproduct. Hahh.
> 
> Note: Jeongcheol is the primary pairing, however Meanie and Soonhoon will be making their own appearances.

He’d been in desperate need of a distraction.

A week of living under rocks and chipping away at alley walls had left Jeonghan craving a bit of release. He’d just about had it with his father’s half-hearted threats and his fellow men pestering him for dirty work. If he didn’t take at least a moment to himself, he was sure to break down under pressure. And in a world of casino chips and bloody knuckles, breaking down wasn’t an option.

In the late hours of the evening, he found himself wandering into a local bar by the edge of Busan, his blood teaming with half-baked adrenaline. Its slumped walls and rickety floorboards were surprisingly sombre, housing only a handful of customers. Gentle tails of tobacco smoke coiled through the stagnant air, dancing with the ambience of a local channel buzzing from the television above the counter. Jeonghan glanced about the idle room before making his way over to the bar.

He took a seat at the end of the counter, pulling a crushed pack of cigarettes from his scarlet leather jacket. Smoking had become a petty vice of his, somehow managing to burn through almost two packs a day. It wasn't so much the nicotine he craved, but the warmth of kindling smoke filling his body. The bitter broil of tar in his lungs and the taste of ash upon his tongue had become a comfort to him. On any other day, he might have felt some sort of remorse towards his bad habits. Today, however, was a day for him to relax. Getting a little high couldn’t do him too much damage.

The server from across the counter seemed to be staring at him from the corner of his eye. At first, Jeonghan pretended not to notice. He got it a lot – what with the silver studs lining his ears, and the gang tattoo tainting his neck. The occasional glare from across the room was par for the course. However, by the time Jeonghan had snubbed out his first cigarette, the man’s unwavering side-glances were starting to piss him off.

“Would you cut that shit out?” Jeonghan snapped, finally looking the man in the eye. The bartender tensed, seemingly taken aback. His words seemed to escape him, his jaw only able to quiver pathetically under his tightly-held breath.

Before Jeonghan could advance his threats any further, another man seated himself at the bar; two seats down from where he was. He was a handsome, broadly built young man in a slim-fit suit, his charcoal hair styled to immaculate perfection. “Usual, please,” he said, his voice deep and intoxicating.

The bar tender’s eyes cut to Jeonghan one last time before he tore his attention away to retrieve the man’s drink. Jeonghan would have chewed the server out, had he not been so charmed by the stunning man to his right.

The stranger caught sight of him, his eyes trailing Jeonghan’s slim figure. He smiled softly. “Don’t think I’ve seen you round here before.”

Jeonghan hummed, once again reaching for his pack of cigarettes. “I’m passing through.”

“Business or pleasure?”

He snickered, pulling his lip between his teeth. “Take a guess.” 

The man chuckled, watching him with a gentleman’s regard. “In that case, might I be so bold as to offer you a drink?”

Jeonghan quirked his brow, a smirk tugging at his lips. Perhaps chivalry wasn’t dead just yet. “Well, if you insist.” He pulled a cigarette between his lips, letting the stranger hail him a glass of sweet Sancerre. Clearly, the man had an acquired taste. Either that or he could tell Jeonghan was of an expensive variety. Probably the latter.

To his surprise, the man stood from his seat, walking over towards his position at the bar. He pulled out a silver lighter from his back pocket, flicking the top off before bringing the flame beneath the end of Jeonghan’s cigarette. Jeonghan smiled, taking a long drag as the fine young man sat himself down beside him.

“So,” the stranger said, leaning against the bar-top. “Where you from?”

“Nowhere,” he admitted, welcoming a warm breath of smoke into his lungs before exhaling deeply through his nostrils. “Hence why I’m passing through.”

The stranger hummed. “That’s a shame. I was thinking, if you were local, I could treat you to dinner sometime.” 

Jeonghan snickered. “I don’t need to be local for you to do that.” He met the man’s tender eyes, captivated by their welcoming demeanour.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

He took a long drag from his cigarette before replying with, “Jeonghan. And yourself?”

“Seungcheol.”

* * *

Four glasses of wine and a third cigarette later, and the two had ended up in a hotel room not too far from the edge of town. Seungcheol had the younger pinned against the door, capturing him in a deep, intoxicating kiss. Jeonghan sighed breathlessly as Seungcheol sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling softly. He wrapped his arms around Seungcheol's neck, tugging gently on the man’s hair.

Seungcheol began trailing open-mouthed kisses along the younger’s jaw, down his neck and along his collarbone. He snuck his fingertips up the hem of Jeonghan’s shirt, running his warm hands over his skin. Jeonghan gasped as the man’s thumb grazed his nipple, shivering as Seungcheol began to roll the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. Almost in retaliation, Jeonghan trailed his hand down the expanse of Seungcheol’s toned chest and stomach, moving to palm lazily at the man’s clothed crotch. He relished in the groan that left the older’s lips.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol husked, his low growl enough to send a shiver down the younger’s spine. Seungcheol pushed his thigh between the other's legs, teasingly grinding down against Jeonghan's growing erection. A moan slipped from Jeonghan’s lips. He tried his best to resist humping Seungcheol’s leg like a dog in heat, craving more friction.  

Eventually, Seungcheol was able to tug Jeonghan’s ridiculously skinny jeans from his legs, tossing them aside carelessly. He didn’t seem phased by the younger’s lack of undergarment – if anything it was one less thing for him to worry about.

“Turn around, hands against the wall,” Seungcheol instructed.

Jeonghan did as he was told, tapping his fingers against the door’s face with anticipation. He flinched in surprise as Seungcheol pulled his silk black tie over his eyes, gently knotting the fabric around his head. He swallowed, feeling hot breath trail up against his nape. A gasp escaped him as Seungcheol’s teeth traced the shell of his ear, before biting down at the junction of his neck. Pain prickled at his senses, followed by a wave of pleasure as Seungcheol ran his tongue soothingly over his wounded skin.

Jeonghan felt Seungcheol lean his warm body against his back, encapsulating him in a sweltering heat. A pair of gentle fingertips tapped at his bottom lip. “Open,” Seungcheol cooed, his voice soft but authoritative. Jeonghan allowed the digits to push past his lips, swirling his tongue around his fingers with a soft sigh. He felt Seungcheol’s hand ghost his hip before finding its way to his cock. He moaned restlessly, placing his forehead against the door as Seungcheol continued to slowly pump his shaft, smoothing his thumb over his slit.

Jeonghan’s gentle mewls turned into whines as Seungcheol’s pace quickened, a familiar arousal pooling in his lower abdomen. He began to unwittingly suckle on the man’s fingers, indignant noises leaving his throat. Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his clothed hard-on against Jeonghan’s ass. He removed his fingers from the younger’s mouth, earning him a needy whimper.

Jeonghan tugged his lip between his teeth, feeling Seungcheol’s hands move towards his hips. The older pulled his hips back by an inch, willing him to bend over a little more. He then proceeded to ghost his hands over Jeonghan’s ass cheeks, humming softly before massaging the soft flesh. Jeonghan inhaled sharply, feeling Seungcheol begin to spread his cheeks. A shudder passed through his body as the man teased his sensitive rim with his saliva coated fingers. It’d been so long since he’d last had sex. The anticipation was killing him.

He felt Seungcheol’s hands stiffen upon his skin, before slowly inserting a finger into his heat. Seungcheol’s adept digit pawed around inside him, before gently grazing a sensitive bundle of nerves. Jeonghan tensed, his mouth falling open in a breathy gasp. It only worsened as Seungcheol added a second and third finger, stroking his prostate until Jeonghan was panting against the door.

“Please,” Jeonghan moaned, the word slipping from his mouth without him fully acknowledging it. “Seungcheol-ah…”

“Please what?” the older asked innocently, keeping his fingers pressed relentlessly against Jeonghan’s prostate. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Jeonghan began to squirm, clenching around Seungcheol’s fingers with an open-mouthed whine. “Fuck, Seungcheol– just fuck me already-- I want you inside me– please...”

The older hummed in satisfaction, slowly retracting his fingers from Jeonghan’s body. There was a short moment of silence before Jeonghan heard the distinct crinkle of a condom packet, followed by the sound of a falling zipper. His body began to quiver, trying his best not to lose his balance. He took a deep breath as he felt the tip of Seungcheol’s cock tease his entrance.

Jeonghan winced as the head began to breach past his rim, not used to the stretch. The lubricated condom helped ease the pain a little, still leaving his body rigid. Seungcheol made sure to go slow, giving the younger’s hips a comforting squeeze. Eventually, after a few seconds of adjustment Jeonghan was able to relax, exhaling deeply as Seungcheol eased his length in. He could hear the man’s dry groans reverberating from behind him, his intoxicating voice exciting him even more.

“God, you’re so tight…” Seungcheol purred, forming a slow pace as he pulled out before gradually pushing back in. Jeonghan only moaned in response, feeling every inch of Seungcheol’s thick cock brushing against his sensitive prostate. Waves of pleasure pulsed through his body, a thick heat pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Seungcheol’s pace began to quicken, thrusting fast and hard into the younger’s tight hole. Jeonghan’s legs grew weaker with every push, blood rushing from his head. He could feel his climax approaching, his body beginning to boil over. Seungcheol’s hand came round to grasp at Jeonghan’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Jeonghan finally reached his limit, his orgasm rippling through his body and turning him into a writhing mess.

* * *

The following morning was surprisingly comfortable. Unlike the vast majority of Jeonghan’s lamentable one-night stands, he didn’t wake up alone by the side of the road without his keys or wallet on him. Instead, he was met with the pleasant scent of freshly-pressed bed sheets, his head resting against Seungcheol’s warm, bare chest. The comforting scent of burning ash and tobacco drifted dimly about the room – just enough to dull Jeonghan’s simmering hangover.

Seungcheol had his arm around his shoulders, holding him close in a compassionate but comfortable fashion. Between his lips sat a recently lit cigarette, its tip glowing a soft amber with every heave of the man’s lungs. “Morning,” he murmured, voice still hazed with drowsiness.

Jeonghan ran his fingertips idly over Seungcheol’s chest, enjoying the heat radiating from his skin. “Morning,” he replied.

Seungcheol plucked the cigarette from his mouth, offering it to him with a half-smile. “Sleep well?” he asked.

Jeonghan took the cigarette from him, taking a heavy drag before answering, “Better than expected. What time is it?”

“Almost six. I’d offer to take you to breakfast, but I’ve got to head to work soon.”

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. By now, his people would be searching for him. Yet, despite knowing the imminent trouble that was bound to arise, he had no desire to leave this cosy refuge. Seungcheol’s body felt wonderfully soothing pressed up against his. Here, in this moment, he could stay away from the chaos – in the arms of a kind stranger, he could be absent from the deafening calls of reality. It was a delightful notion, even if unrealistic.

“Although,” Seungcheol said, “I wouldn’t be opposed to taking you out some other night.”

Jeonghan smirked softly. “I was under the impression that this was just a hook-up.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “If that’s what you want, then sure.” He paused for a moment, his chocolaty eyes turning down to meet Jeonghan’s gaze. “But… it would be a shame to never see you again.”

Jeonghan smiled, tugging his lip between his teeth. Maybe, if he ever needed another distraction, Seungcheol could be his go-to. The plan wasn’t exactly abysmal. A little shallow, perhaps, but not unreasonable. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Why not exploit it? “I’m free this weekend.”

“Saturday, eight o'clock?” Seungcheol suggested. “We can meet at the bar for a drink before dinner. I know a restaurant that might be to your fancy.”

Jeonghan snickered. “I’ll take your word for it.”

A low buzz erupted from Seungcheol’s phone upon the bedside, disturbing their peaceful lie-in. The man grumbled, grudgingly stretching his arm over to fish his mobile from the table’s surface. He cleared his throat before answering the phone.

“Superintendent Choi speaking,” he said.

Jeonghan froze, his body growing rigid.

“No, I’m still getting ready. If it’s important, you can hand it to my officers.” Seungcheol quietly untangled himself from the sheets, pushing himself up off the bed and scooping his clothes from the floor. “I’ll be by the station in about an hour.”

Jeonghan sat up a little too fast, pressing his head up against the backboard. His heart seemed to fall to his stomach, as he became insufferably aware of the initiation tattoo branded upon the left side of his neck. He rashly pulled his cigarette to his lips, struggling to keep his hand steady.

“Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Seungcheol said, holding his phone between his ear and shoulder as he started to dress himself. “Yeah, I know, thanks.”

Jeonghan kept his eyes on the man, watching as he did up his belt and buttoned his shirt cuffs. Within a single passing moment, the man who he’d regarded as a benign creature of benevolence and security had transformed into the only thing he and his fellow criminals feared.

Seungcheol hung up the phone, slipping it into the back pocket of his trousers. He turned to face Jeonghan, an all too affectionate smile on his lips. “Well, I’ll be off now. Hate to leave you like this, but--”

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan cut in, crushing his half-smoked cigarette in the ash tray beside him. “Don’t worry about it.” He could only pray the man didn’t hear the slight tremor in his voice.

Seungcheol regarded him with soft eyes, clearly oblivious. “Alright, well, looking forward to Saturday.” Jeonghan nodded stiffly, watching as the man sauntered from the room. He waited until he heard the discrete click of the hotel door closing swiftly behind the man before finally letting himself breathe again. His chest was beginning to ache, his head spinning. This could not have been a more fucked up situation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol regular updates? can't relate

The underground casino was a foul paradise for the modern day criminal, built on blood diamonds and stolen dimes. Black marble glistened upon the walls, the ceilings lit by webs of ruby chandeliers that bled streams of crimson light. Men and women of vulgar successions filled the hall with chatter, their thoughts trained on what could only be money. There was no place Jeonghan would rather spend his working hours.

He and his associates, Jihoon and Mingyu, found themselves engaged in a freelance poker game, the scent of burning cannabis simmering through the air like incense through a temple. Jeonghan wasn’t about to ignore the troubled glances Mingyu was throwing him from across the table. As entertaining as it was to watch his fellow man grasp at straws, he wasn’t the type to let an associate down. Besides, at the end of the day, it was  _mostly_ Jeonghan’s money they were wasting.

He took a final drag of his cigarette before snuffing it in the ashtray beside him. “Seokwoo,” Jeonghan started, exchanging glances with their main competitor, “how about I raise you one?”

The rival gang leader snickered beneath his breath, his hand toying with a glass pipe of marijuana. “Be my guest. That is, if you have anything  _left_  to raise with.”

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders, a sweet smile tugging innocently at the corner of his lips. “Name your price.”

Seokwoo’s eyes trailed to his three men seated at the table. They exchanged knowing glances before settling their sights back on Jeonghan. “Let’s say, twenty-five percent of your group’s land investment, and a kiss for good sportsmanship.”

Jeonghan resisted the urge to gag, his eyes falling down to his cards in front of him. He gave a dainty snicker before running his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m a felon. Not a whore.” His voice, though gentle, possessed a poison that only the boldest of men could swallow. “I’ll raise you to thirty percent. Our Busan territories against yours in Seoul. Winner takes all.”

“No kiss?” The leader’s men began to chuckle amongst themselves. Just the sound of their perverted snickers made Jeonghan’s skin crawl with disgust. “Thirty it is. Let’s get this over with.”

The final cards were dealt, all eyes falling to the players; each man possessing a look of foul poison.  

Mingyu’s twitching was starting to get on Jeonghan’s nerves. The way the rookie’s hands continued to jitter, his silver ring rattling timidly upon the table’s surface; even an idiot could smell his fear from a mile away. Jeonghan knew from the start – he should have just left him out of this. Ever since Mingyu’s initiation, the useless fucker had been nothing but a hindrance to their operations.

Lucky for him, this one should be fairly easy.

Jeonghan had his exceptional ways with the people of this particular casino. They dealt him, what he liked to call, thermochromic cards; invented by his own associate, Jihoon.

As his fellow gamblers were busy checking their own hands, Jeonghan slowly brought the corner of his newest card up to his lips, letting his warm skin and hot breath graze the playing card’s plastic coating. A moment passed before the change in temperature began to morph the card’s charcoal ink, turning the 7 into a sharp 10 of spades. Ah, the wonders of heat-sensitive technology.

With a confident palm, he revealed his hand; a pristine assortment of royals, embellished by his rogue fraudulence. A thin line of smoke trailed from Seokwoo’s gaping mouth, his wide and bloated eyes staring down at the cards in disbelief.

“Lucky me,” Jeonghan chimed, the corner of his lip curling maliciously. Jihoon snickered behind his hand, clearly proud of his own invention. With that, Jeonghan leant his elbows against the table, resting his chin on his palm with a certain venom in his gaze. “Looking a little pale there, Seokwoo. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about our little arrangement.”

A feral growl broiled in the man’s throat, his teeth clenched to a snarl. “Little brat…”

Jeonghan’s victorious smile suddenly faltered, his eyes turning from soft to sour. Anger began to simmer in the pit of his stomach. “What did you just call me?” he said, voice still low despite his rising temper.

“I said you’re a fucking brat,” Seokwoo snapped. His lips drew to a wide and ugly smile, regarding his opponent as though he were nothing but dirt beneath his feet. “You think you own these parts, kid? You’re nothing but a cock-sucking pretty boy. Daddy’s little whore.” The men about the table began to snicker, filling the air with their foul slurs.

Jeonghan stood from his seat, moving to fish his gun from his belt. “Jeonghan, no!” Mingyu hissed, leaping from his chair and latching his hand around the man's wrist before he had the chance to draw.

Amidst his frenzied advances, Mingyu carelessly knocked over a glass of wine on the table, the burgundy substance flooding the surface. Jeonghan’s body turned stone rigid as the ice-cold liquid drenched his cards. The thermochromic effect vanished within the blink of an eye, revealing their original numbers.

The others at the table noticed almost instantly, their anger eminent by the distortion in their faces. Now it was Seokwoo’s turn to stand. “You lying, cheating little cunt.” His chest quaked with a sadistic laugh, his voice rumbling through the stagnant casino. All three of his men drew their guns, pointing them towards the deceitful Leader.

Jihoon was quick to retaliate, pushing the silver barrel of his pistol to the back of Seokwoo’s head. “Drop your guns, assholes,” he spat. “’Less you want your boss’ brains served on the fucking ceiling.”

“You’re outnumbered, boys,” Seokwoo uttered, even as Jeonghan drew his weapon and pointed it towards him. “This ain’t a fucking playground.”

Even in reflection, Jeonghan could not recall who fired first. All he knew was that one moment, there was silence. The next, there was chaos.

* * *

“Didn’t you say you were quitting?” Wonwoo muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Seungcheol gave a half-hearted grunt, his twitchy fingers lighting up the end of his third cigarette before pressing the tip between his dry lips. “I’m a troubled man. Sue me.” His subordinate scoffed, crossing his arms and hugging them close to his chest. “Last one, I swear.”

Wonwoo grumbled sceptically, a humble bitterness evident in his tone. “If you say so, boss.”

The two officers stood just outside the police station; a corrugated block so rickety that a gust of wind might have knocked it over. They had their eyes glued to the pallid morning sky, watching her sickly clouds colour her white while both silently praying it wasn’t about to rain. Having not gone home last night, Seungcheol was without an umbrella. The last thing he needed was a spout of bad weather.

The taste of tobacco lingering at his lips reminded him all too fondly of the man he met last night. Jeonghan. What a charming creature he turned out to be. Seungcheol smiled at the thought. It was rare to come across someone of such unconventional nature, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t immensely attracted to it.

His thoughts were drawn back to reality when he heard Wonwoo give a fatigued sigh, his breath heavy. He spared the young man a glance, catching sight of the worry in his eyes. “Hey,” Seungcheol said firmly, nudging the other with his elbow. “You're not looking too good."

"Am I ever?" Wonwoo said with a frail chuckle, his smile forced and unconvincing.

Seungcheol stared him down for a solid half-minute. "You know what I mean."

Wonwoo was silent for a moment longer, his jaw clamped tight as he inhaled through his nostrils. By the time he’d regained his thoughts, the colour from his skin had faded almost completely. “What if… what if something’s happened to him?”

Seungcheol knitted his brow, eyes turning stern. “You’re talking about Officer Kim?” Wonwoo swallowed, nodding shortly.

Approximately three months ago, Mingyu was assigned an undercover inspective position. His infiltration into the Gumiho criminal cooperation, better known as the Fox-tail gang of west Busan, had been a success. Despite their efforts to keep a close eye on their insider, Mingyu was swept away by the Gumiho initiation process. Their efforts to contact him since had been futile.

“Wonwoo,” Seungcheol started, gathering his sincerity, “you know just as well as I do that we’re doing the best we can. I know it’s tough, but adding emotions into the mix isn't going to help anyone." Wonwoo said nothing, drawing his lip into a fine line. “You just got to wait it out. We’ll find him eventually.”

“Eventually…yeah.” The young Officer sneered feebly, his eyes as sour as the grievance in his chest. “But alive or dead is anybody’s guess.”

Seungcheol’s phone gave a timid buzz in his back pocket. He swallowed his grumbles before fishing the device into his hand, pressing accept before placing it against his ear. “Superintendent Choi speaking. Give me good news.”

 _“Uhh,”_ Soonyoung’s voice hummed down the line,  _“well, I don’t know if a gang fight classifies as “good news”. Depends on how you look at it.”_

Seungcheol gave an irritated tut, rubbing the side of his temple with the pad of his thumb. “Of course…”

 _"Our guys can’t confirm yet, but reports were saying that the fight instigated from a black-market casino. The place had been under the radar for years. We_   _suspect it was the Gumiho and Bulgae associations."_

Seungcheol's body grew sluggish at the thought. "Well, 'least now we can shut that shit-hole down."

_"I'll send you the address ASAP. Apparently, it's kind of a mess down there, so, fair warning--"_

"Don't eat beforehand. Got it," Seungcheol muttered. "See you when I see you."

_"Good luck, sir."_

* * *

Beneath the cries of gunfire, and the phantom screams tearing through the streets, Jeonghan and his men escaped to the back alleyway surrounding the casino, hiding in the friendly shadows of crusted walls and blood-stained tiles.

The minute they were in the clearing, Jeonghan didn’t hesitate to throw his fist into Mingyu’s stomach. The young man doubled over in pain only to be met by another blow to the jaw. Jeonghan took one last hit, burying his boot between Mingyu’s ribs until the man was shrivelling on the ground, cries of agony raking through his throat.

“You fucking moron, piece of shit!” Jeonghan shouted, his throat growing hoarse. “I had that! I fucking had that! You useless fucking--” Tears of rage and frustration brewed behind his eyes. The looming conclusion of his failure would soon reach his father’s ears; that thought alone was enough to bring an ache to his stomach.

“I was trying to protect us…” Mingyu said, pushing his chest off the ground with quivering arms. Blood and bruises blossomed upon his face where Jeonghan had struck him. “I’m sorry. I…” His voice was shaking, shattered beneath what could only be pain, and perhaps fear.

If not for his own selfish worries, Jeonghan might have felt an ounce of pity. Instead, he let his anger consume him. “You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? Wait ‘til  _he_ hears about this, then tell me how fucking sorry you are!”

The sound of Jihoon’s feeble tone echoed from behind them; quiet enough to be lost to the sounds of the road if not for the Leader's familiarity with his voice. “Jeonghan…”

Turning his head over his shoulder, Jeonghan caught sight of his loyal subordinate standing with his back pressed up against the side of the alleyway. Jihoon’s chest heaved in slow and broken spurs, raspy wheezes leaving his lips.  He had his hand pressed to his abdomen, whereupon Jeonghan discovered the thick torrents of blood seeping through his fingertips.

“Shit.” Jeonghan was at his side within a second, just as Jihoon sunk to the ground. He knelt beside him with a hand upon his shoulder whilst the other examined the bullet puncture in the young man’s torso. A sheen of red blossomed from the gaping wound, drizzling his shirt in a coat of red. Jeonghan tried to apply pressure – tried to minimize the blood-loss as his friend began to shiver. His hands became coated in crimson, the stench of copper filling the air.

“J-Jeongh-an.”

The Leader shushed him. “Come on, stay with us, Jihoon. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I can’t f-feel…” The words died in his throat, but Jeonghan was barely listening. Blood was already pooling in the gravel, staining the earth in a deep burgundy. “Cops.” The leader stilled, looking Jihoon in the eyes. Even in his weakened state, the man still wore a level expression. “You have t-to go.”

“Like hell I’m leaving you here.”

Jihoon swallowed beneath his quivering skin, managing a tired smile. “No point in b-both of us d-dying.”

Sirens sang into the streets, making Jeonghan’s head throb. He knew Jihoon was right. As a matter of fact, Jihoon was rarely wrong. It took every ounce of strength in his body for him to pull himself away, every muscle trembling out of sheer terror. Jihoon, beneath shuddering breaths and quivering bones, smiled up at him with grateful, gleaming eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written while slightly intoxicated, don't mind me
> 
> Not proof-read (and I don't plan to) because tipsy-me is cringe af ((sorry))

It’d been a while since Jihoon had seen the inside of a hospital.

He recognised the clean chemical odour coating each surface, masking the trace of blood and vomit laced into the walls. Hanging lights bled sharp white stains into his eyes, sullying his vision.

A stiff pulse gnawed at his spine where his back met the hospital bed. Wrenching his body out of slumber, he tried to sit up. A futile attempt, thanks to the ache stabbing deep between his ribs.

Falling back with a huff, he pressed a hand to where the bullet had pierced his skin. Beneath a thick layer of bandages wrapped around his torso, he felt a rigid line of rutted scarring. The wound was garnished with what felt like six stitches running up his abdomen.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” a low voice said in robust authority. Jihoon turned to the man stood beside his bed, his eyes immediately finding the police brooch pinned to the stranger’s sturdy chest. “Doctor says you’re stable for now, but any further trauma to the wound could cause the internal bleeding to precipitate.”

“… Right.” He winced beneath the sandy texture of his throat, unsure if being in a hospital with a cop was any better than being dead on the side of the road.

“I’m Choi Seungcheol,” the stranger said; calm yet firm. “Superintendent at the Korean National Police Agency.”

“No kidding.”

“You got a name?” Seungcheol asked. “Because according to fingerprint records, you don’t exist.”

“Well how ‘bout that.”

He heard the Officer’s patience beginning to run thin through the heavy exhale that left his lungs. “I don’t believe you quite understand the severity of this situation.”

Jihoon rubbed his fingertips over the prickly sheets beneath him, the abrasive material giving off a powdery texture; cleaning detergent – anionic surfactants. Good to know.

He glanced around the barren bedroom, escape already playing upon his mind. Not much to work with – a bedside table baring a vase of dandelions, some paper-clips, and a couple of ball-point pens. Still, Jihoon’s specialty tended to thrived in eccentric situations. “Am I being detained, Superintendent?”

Seungcheol’s eyes burned a cautionary gaze. “You’re being held under suspicion of criminal activity.”

“Because I was shot?”

“Because a gun was found on your person when you were brought into medical care, and need I mention; you were the only found survivor in a black-market casino raid.” Jihoon grimaced, a bitter taste forming in his mouth. Not exactly the best situation to be in.

The Officer pulled up a rusty folding stool, sitting down beside the bed with his arms folded. He observed Jihoon with modest enquiry before speaking again.

“Tell me the name of your criminal association.”

“The Criminal procedure act states I have no obligation to answer,” Jihoon said, his tone empty and unmoved.

“Criminal procedure doesn’t apply to offenders without citizenship,” Seungcheol retaliated. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest you cooperate accordingly.”

A snicker passed his lips; not out of amusement or discomfort – but out of sheer distaste. “Fuck you.”

The man smiled; his gaze callous. “If that’s how you wanna’ play, then fine by me.”

There was something about this officer that sent barbs running through Jihoon’s stomach. Perhaps it was the way his eyes seemed to warm despite the coarseness of his words.

“The doctors mentioned finding a tattoo on your lower abdomen while suturing your wound.” Jihoon tensed, his muscles turning to stone. “Once your stitches heals, we’ll be able to examine the branding, and identify what organisation your hail from.”

“Doubt it.” 

“So you’re from a phantom organisation?” Seungcheol smirked. An expression of foul scorn. “That’s interesting.” Jihoon bit the inside of his cheek, silently cursing himself. “Care to tell me which one? Bulgae? Doryeong? Gumiho?”

He remained silent, digging his nails into the palms of his hands until his knuckles turned white.

The officer sighed dejectedly. “Must be hard being abandoned by your fellow men. I almost pity you.” Seungcheol stood from his seat, that nauseatingly humble smile still upon his lips. “ _Almost_.”

Jihoon watched as the man made his way towards the door. “My associate will be by this afternoon to document your orientation.” He stopped by the doorway, turning towards the felon with a marble façade. “Oh, and this probably goes without saying – but we have a couple Police officials stationed around the hospital wing with every intent on keeping you here. Try anything stupid and… well let’s just say, you might be staying here a little while longer.”

* * *

 

Jeonghan stood by the edge of a colourless road, beneath a sky of moulding clouds. Angry rumbles of mid-autumn rain flooded the streets of Busan, dousing him from his hair to his shoes. The ice-cold water prickling his flesh failed to numb the ache burdening his chest.

He stared down at his shivering hands with nothing but resentment. In his eyes, Jihoon’s blood still festered on his skin, glistening in his palms and dribbling down his fingers. No amount of rain would wash this loss away. This _guilt_.

Raindrops drumming over tarmac turned into echoes of gunfire inside his skull; all the memories he’d tried so hard to forget. Empty shots fed by nothing but wrath and greed. Even in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t escape the convulsive sounds of reality.

Lost to his own thoughts, he only noticed the soothing presence beside him when the rain stopped hitting his shoulders. An oversized raincoat was slung over his lean frame, submerging his back in a profound heat. Laced into the embracing fabric was a soothing scent of ash and tobacco.

“You’ll freeze to death out here.”

Choi Seungcheol stood comfortably beside him, his handsome figure dampened by the onslaught of rain. The affable smile playing upon his face almost distracted from the police badge hanging from the rusty chain around his neck.

“It’s good to see you,” the Superintendent said, carding his hand through his rain-sodden hair. Jeonghan remarked the dewy veil of water glistening upon the young man’s skin; the man who ought to be a stranger to him. “Why you out here by yourself?”

He didn’t dignify him with a response. He didn’t want to. Seungcheol had probably prosecuted a dozen of his associates without the slightest ounce of remorse. The men of the National Police were vile creatures; wannabe superheroes – always trying to save the day while indiscreetly fucking up everyone else’s lives. As far as Jeonghan was concerned, he owned him nothing.

The autumn shower's temper began to soothe, withering to a drizzle. Pin-prick shivers ran up the length of Jeonghan’s arms and down his neck; the cold mingling with his looming anxiety.

A sharp snap of a silver-gaged lighter broke through the white-noise. Seungcheol had a battered cigarette pulled between his teeth, cupping his hand over the tip as he set the end to embers. Jeonghan was impressed with the man’s talent of keeping his bad habit adrift, even in this dreadful weather.

Smoke coiled from Seungcheol’s pretty parted lips, disappearing as a slither into the misty sky. His sharp eyes traced Jeonghan’s frame with benevolence. “You’re shaking,” he said, tone unwavering.

“I’m drenched,” Jeonghan muttered plainly.

Seungcheol snickered, voice low and intoxicating. “I can see that.” He turned his cigarette over in his fingertips, moving towards him with an overbearing confidence. “Smoke?”

Jeonghan eyed the offering wearily before shaking his head. He couldn’t accept something from an officer. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake as last time. Seungcheol merely shrugged, placing it back between his lips. “Those things’ll kill you one day.”

“Oh, I know.” The man shrugged his sturdy shoulders. “But I’m also a borderline alcoholic. It’s just a question of which one gives out first; my lungs or my liver.”

A snicker slipped from Jeonghan’s lips. “’Least you admit it.”

“I consider it a hamartia.”

“Kind of a lousy cop, aren’t you. You deal drugs on the side?”

Seungcheol smirked. “I don’t believe in illegal narcotics. If it doesn’t agree with Jurisdiction, then it doesn’t agree with me.” His vision trailed towards Jeonghan’s slender neck, eying the dark vines of ink sullying his creamy skin. “Interesting tattoo you got there.”

Jeonghan instinctively pressed his palm to his nape, elusively trying to hide his gang’s sigil. He doubted the man would recognise it, thanks to his association’s phantom presence. The Police had nothing beyond a name in regards to the Fox-tail Gang. But he couldn’t be too careful. “Thanks.”

A feather-light huff passed through his nostrils as he tried to still his shaking. His body’s dropping temperature paired with the Superintendent’s brazen gaze was making it hard to breathe. “You’re not looking so good,” Seungcheol muttered, voice tinged with concern. “Aren’t you cold?”

“I’ve been colder.” Jeonghan allowed himself the pleasure of looking the man in the eye, letting Seungcheol lean in a little closer; close enough for him to taste the hot tobacco on his breath. Seungcheol was a temptation sweet as sin, beyond reach and recognition. The young criminal wondered if things might have been different, had the two of them met in another place at another time. Perhaps they’d have been good for each other.

“That so,” Seungcheol uttered; less of a question and more of a passing thought. He moved towards Jeonghan with an astute posture, smiling softly. “Want me to warm you up?”

* * *

 

 

They ended up at an empty bar near the heart of the city; a tired old block that sagged at the end of the street. Jeonghan hadn’t intended to drink as much as he had. Yet, the calls of his fourth, fifth, and sixth shot had disappeared as soon as they’d arrived, inducing a heavenly buzz. Tender warmth numbed his skin and pulsed through his fingertips, distracting from the calls of reality just beyond.

He was sat comfortably beside Seungcheol with his elbows resting on a greasy bar counter. A grimace played upon his face as he downed another mouthful of whiskey. The liquid seared his throat, curling in his stomach until it settled into his euphoria.

Seungcheol was in a similar state of intoxication by his seventh shot, judging by the slight flush tinting his ears. He swayed slightly in his barstool, rubbing the side of his temple with a soft snicker. Terrible taste in men aside, Jeonghan couldn’t help but find him rather delightful in this mellow state. Definitely a lousy cop.

“Y’know, I have work in the morning,” Seungcheol uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “God, I’m the worst.”

Jeonghan laughed, having forgotten most of his prior worries. Between his swollen brain swimming in alcohol, and the sound of Seungcheol’s soothing voice, heavy with rum and cider; his mind had no space to worry about the real world. “The worst in the best way.”

“Whatever you say,” Seungcheol grumbled, his voice thick with husk. Vaguely erotic. But perhaps that was the whiskey talking.

“Look, I don’t go into work unless I’m forty percent wasted,” Jeonghan said, wiping the liquor from the corner of his mouth. He pretended not to notice the way Seungcheol’s eyes traced his lips with a look of sweet desire.

“You never mentioned your work before.”

Jeonghan shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a prostitute.”

“Really?”

He scoffed with a kittenish smirk. “No, of course not.” Seungcheol slurred a stony chuckle, clearly far too gone to care. “I’m in finance.”

“Finance?” he questioned, arching his brow sceptically. “Figured you wouldn’t be into that sort of stuff… but I guess it’s better than prostitution.”

Jeonghan smirked, resting his chin against his palm while idly batting his eyelashes. He leant his lithe frame towards the other, his knee nudging impishly at Seungcheol’s thigh. “And what if I _was_ a prostitute, huh?”

The man cocked his head, his tongue grazing over his bottom lip. “Well, I’d have to detain you for sex trade affiliation.”

“Detain me?” Jeonghan moved a little closer, craving a taste of the other’s wicked fantasies. His fingertips wandered over Seungcheol’s bicep, savouring the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. His hand continued to trail up to his shoulder, smoothing teasingly over the exposed skin of his neck. “Sounds kinda’ hot.”

The man snickered. “You’re drunk.”

“ _You’re_ drunk.”

Seungcheol paused, his mouth hanging slightly agape – unable to bring about a coherent argument. “Point taken.”  

* * *

Jeonghan was a man with little to no self-control. A fucking idiot.

It was the only reason he could use to justify his actions; why he was currently in a Police Officer’s apartment. Why he was allowing Seungcheol to push him onto the sofa, trailing warm kisses along his jaw. A shiver trickled down his spine as the other ran his teeth over his neck and collarbone, hot breath meeting his ice-cold skin.

There was an ounce of satisfaction to be found, toying with a man who had no clue of his transgressions. Fear melded with his excitement, flooding his blood with adrenaline. Perhaps it was a simple factor of alcohol induced recklessness. Perhaps it was something more.

Either way, neither of them were sober enough to care.                                                

Jeonghan tugged at Seungcheol’s shirt sleeve with a whine, irritated by his lack of access to the man’s soft skin. Seungcheol chuckled, silencing his complaints with a deep, indulgent kiss. It was a hungry clash of tongues and teeth, comfortable warmth mingling beneath a bitter taste. They explored each other’s mouths with weak sighs and gentle moans at their lips.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Seungcheol muttered as they parted, his breath heavy, “when I said I had work in the morning.”

“So take a day off.” Jeonghan snuck his fingertips up the hem of Seungcheol’s shirt, teasing at the warm, toned flesh of his torso. “I don’t give a fuck.”

Seungcheol simpered. His hand latched onto Jeonghan’s slender wrist, stopping his advances. “I haven’t missed a day of work in three years.”

“Nerd.” Before he had a chance to retaliate, Jeonghan wrapped his legs around the other’s hips, rolling the two of them over until he had Seungcheol pinned beneath him; his thighs straddling his waist. Whatever objection Seungcheol had was quickly replaced with a groan, as Jeonghan began to grind his hips down, his hands roaming over the older’s firm chest.

“You’re just full of bad ideas, aren’t you?”

Jeonghan grinned, liking the way Seungcheol’s large palms were smoothing over his thighs. He could see his resolve beginning to crumble. “Bad ideas are the best kind.”

* * *

 

_“The number you have dialled is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone.”_

Soonyoung huffed meekly, a soft frown pulling at his bottom lip. Seungcheol was rarely the type to leave his phone unanswered. “Hey Sir, it’s me again. I’m at the hospital to do orientation on the suspect, like you asked. Call me when you get this, okay?”

He hung up before stuffing his mobile into his back pocket, quietly making his way up the stairs to the hospital wing. Hanging lights flickered wearily above his head, a gentle buzz quivering through the stairway cement. Whatever grains of positivity he had for this situation were slowly seeping through his fingertips.

He wasn’t used to leaving the sanctuary of his office. As Communications Director, the only practical work he was ever obligated to do was the morning coffee run.

Normally, suspects were oriented via the National record system. Seungcheol’s request for him to do an immediate physical documentation was abnormal to say the least. Nevertheless, he soldiered on. After all, the Superintendent wouldn’t have called him to the hospital if it wasn’t of grave importance.

He arrived in the barren belly of the hospital wing, surprised to find the sordid white hallways completely void of life. The police officials were scheduled to be patrolling the suspect’s vicinity. Perhaps they were on their supper break. After all, it _was_ getting rather late. Frankly, Soonyoung was looking forward to heading home himself.

He tucked his folder under his arm, walking through the plastic labyrinth of endless corridors. Eerie silence whispered through the walls, broken only by the echoing tap of his footsteps.

Finally, he arrived at the suspect’s designated room door. The lights were off and all seemed peaceful. He was just about to enter when his hand suddenly stilled at the silver handle. His body turned to iron, his heart growing heavy. There, in plain sight, was the severe anomaly.

The lock on the door had been tampered with.

Any Officer of the law could see it. The broken deadlock. The fresh scratches surrounding the keyhole.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised when an ice-sharp prong was pressed to the back of his neck, threatening to pierce through his skin. “Fun fact about ballpoint ink,” a voice of coarse demeanour muttered. “It’s harmless on its own, but combined with anionic surfactants, its compounds can be separated to make Digoxin. 1.93 grams of fatal hydrocarbon elixir, three doses. One shot is all it takes to put a man right out of his misery.”

Soonyoung swallowed, his head growing light. His stomach filling with water.

“I’ve already taken out two of your buddies. Got just enough for one more shot. Best you play nice if you value your life."

Soonyoung drew a quivering breath, his hands beginning to sweat. He wasn’t ready to die. Not like this.

“Hospital security will find out what’s happened soon enough. I need a car. And a change of clothes.” Soonyoung winced as the man’s hand clamped around his shoulder, pulling him down by the side of his neck. “You can do that for me, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Smoking is bad, kidz.


End file.
